


Lucky if I See You on the Holidays

by standbygo



Series: November 2014 Song Challenge [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Gen, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standbygo/pseuds/standbygo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John can't join Sherlock on cases like he used to, now that Baby Watson is in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky if I See You on the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not redistribute my fanfiction on other archives or sites without my express permission. Thank you.
> 
> Another in a series of pieces, built out of a challenge/cooperation between ResidentBunburyist and myself. Each piece begins with a piece of music, then I write a piece and RB draws a picture for it, or RB draws a picture and I write a piece for it. 
> 
> Song prompt from ResidentBunburyist - "Holiday", The Get Up Kids

_Maybe I can see you on the holidays_

_But you're worlds away_

_I've never forgotten all our yesterdays_

_But I’m lucky if we're speaking on the holidays_

  * "Holiday", The Get Up Kids




 

**Double murder in Croydon. Can you come? SH**

_Sorry, Mary’s out and I’m alone here with Grace. Can’t leave. Wish I could._

**Okay. Not to worry. SH**

_Send me details later?_

**Of course. SH**

Sherlock stares at his phone for a moment, then pockets it and runs down the stairs.

+

**Body found on the grounds of the Tower of London. Forensics thinks it’s a suicide but I’d like your opinion. Are you available? SH**

_God I wish. Grace has fever, maybe teething. Screaming nonstop._

**All right. SH**

John’s lips purse as he looks down at his mobile, at the familiar curve and right angle Sherlock’s initials. Grace, cradled in his left arm, shrieks again, her mouth open and drooling freely. John tucks the phone into his pocket and jiggles her. He sticks his pinky finger into her mouth and winces as she bites down.

+

_Got the afternoon off from the clinic. Anything on?_

**Sorry. In Glasgow. Back Tuesday. SH**

+

“Hello?”

“Why are you answering John’s phone?”

“Nice to hear your voice too, Sherlock,” Mary says. She sounds tired, worn, a little terse. “John’s not well.”

“What?”

“Grace came down with something last week, and John picked it up.”

“I have an urgent case. I need him.”

“He’s got a fever of 39.5, Sherlock. He’s in bed and will stay there.” A pause. “Grace is fine, by the way.”

“Fine.”

Sherlock disconnects. Mary’s lips make a thin line, pink turning white with the pressure of her mouth.

+

“Let me past.”

“Sir, you can’t – hospital regulations-”

“I’m his doctor, let me past, nurse. Now.”

John doesn’t wait for the nurse to move aside but pushes past her into Sherlock’s room. “Jesus, Sherlock. What were you thinking?”

Sherlock is on the hospital bed, his eyes and hair vivid against the sheets, his skin fading into the white of the fabric. “Why are you here?” he says, his voice hard.

“Lestrade called me.”

“Ah. Well. Nothing you need to worry about, John,” Sherlock says.

“Bullshit.” John checks the blood pressure monitor, nods tersely, then turns to Sherlock on the bed. “Stabbed. Bloody well stabbed. Eighteen stitches.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I know you have, just-” John stops himself, takes a deep breath, calms somewhat. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Didn’t want to waste minutes on my phone plan,” Sherlock snaps.

A silence stretches out between them; low, humming and dangerous.

“Look, Sherlock-”

“I’m tired now, John. Loss of blood, you know.” Sherlock raises one arm, waves his fingers towards the door. “Bye bye.”

“Sherlock, you know I want to help-”

“Well, I’ll just do my best to time my cases to Sunday afternoons, shall I?”

The muscles in John’s jaw jump and twitch, but his mouth remains sealed shut.

“Go home, John.”

John stares at Sherlock for a moment, then stomps over the chair next to Sherlock’s bed and throws himself into it. “No,” he says.

“Don’t you need to take your child to the park? Or to Kindergym or whatever you called it?”

John pulls out his phone and types into it, punching at the keys aggressively. He puts the phone away. “Not any more. Mary will take her.”

John hears Sherlock’s jaw creak and grind. Sherlock hears John’s foot tapping. They hear the nurses pass through the hallway outside.

John clears his throat, looks down at the floor, and says, “Badger.”

Sherlock blinks. He steadfastly looks ahead, not at John. “Raccoon.”

“Newt.”

“Tapeworm.”

“Moth.”

“Howler monkey.”

“Damn it. Yak.”

“Kiwi.”

“You bastard. Um. Iguana.”

“Appaloosa.”

“Now you’re making them up.”

“Am not. It’s a kind of a horse.”

“D’you look things like that up and store them away just to irritate me?”

“Perhaps. I’m bored of animals now, can we do chemicals?”

“Not in my lifetime.”

“You can do medical terms if you want.”

“… Okay.”

  

_End_

 

 


End file.
